


Promises, Promises

by freshwoods



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Mild Blood, Minor Violence, Pining, SHIELD, attie's marvel kiss challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshwoods/pseuds/freshwoods
Summary: The mission was supposed to be a simple extraction, but then everything manages to go wrong. Help finally comes - and of course it’s Steve. It’s always Steve.





	Promises, Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [barnesrogersvstheworld](https://barnesrogersvstheworld.tumblr.com/)'s Marvel Kiss Challengs, for the prompt “Because if I kissed you now, I don’t think I’d be able to stop.”

The mission had gone too long. You check your watch again. It was supposed to be a simple extraction, in and out, and as you make your way around the enemy base with the liberated American hostage in tow, you wonder if maybe the STRIKE team hadn’t been given all the information necessary to pull off this mission without a hitch. You think about going for the radio on your belt, just to make sure the helicopter still waits at the rendezvous point for you, since you have the last of the hostages. You don’t have to wonder long. You climb the last set of stairs and round a corner, coming to a set of doors that you know leads to the roof. Taking your gun from your holster, you turn back to the scared hostage. “Do what I say.” You kick the doors open.

Everything after that happens in a flurry of movement—the hostage screaming, you telling them to run for the waiting chopper on the other end of the roof, the four armed assailants commencing on you as the hostage flees and you do your damnedest to keep gunmen at bay.

One of them gets a shot off at you and a stinging pain shoots through your arm. You don’t let it slow you down though, instead opting to take what cover you can behind an electricity box, covering for the hostage as they finally make it to the helicopter. You manage to pick a couple of the armed guards off as the helicopter lifts off without a second to spare, more armed people ascending on the roof. You’re outnumbered, outgunned, and your position is perilously close to getting surrounded.

And then help finally comes.

And it’s Steve, of course—your Captain, America’s Captain, the man you’ve been pining after for longer than you’d care to admit.

Somehow, it’s always Steve.

He drops in from somewhere—you honestly have no idea where—shield boomeranging between assailants and then back to him, the two of you working together to level what remains of the enemy in a mere matter of minutes. You always find yourself a little envious of his ability to so quickly and thoroughly take out SHIELD’s adversaries, still, after all the time you’ve spent on the team, fighting along side him. But today you’re more grateful for it than you can say.

As the bodies lay scattered around you two, the battle finally over, the mission finally done, you allow yourself to take stock of the moment. You know it will be at least thirty minutes before another chopper arrives for the team’s extraction, so you take stock—your hostage survived, made it to safety, and the stinging pain in your arm still smarts a little but when you look, you see it’s just a graze. You probably won’t even need stitches.

You’re so lost in your own head that it takes a moment to realize someone’s saying your name.

“Y/N, are you okay? Y/N?”

Looking away from the wound on your arm, you see Steve in front of you, so much closer than he’d been before, and you blink at him as he moves even closer, hands reaching out. He frowns when he gently holds your forearm, inspecting your wound. “You’re hurt?”

You shrug nonchalantly, trying to ignore the heat of his hand even through your uniform. “It’s nothing, Steve. Just a flesh wound.”

His frown deepens. “You need a medic. I’ll radio for our extraction to be moved up.”

You sigh, pulling your arm out of his grasp. “Honestly, I’m fine. All that matters is that the hostages got away, and we shouldn’t jeopardize their retreat by moving up the timetable. It’s not worth it.”

He looks at you for a long moment, and then reaches out once more, surprising you when he cradles your face in his palm. If you thought the touch earlier was hard to ignore, it’s nearly impossible now, with his skin against yours, him looking at you like—like he cares, like you  _matter_ , like you’re precious. “Why are you so noble?”

His murmured words are so low you almost don’t hear them—almost. “I…” You stare at him, unable to move, feeling something magnetic starting between the two of you. “I learned from the best.”

His thumb sweeps over your cheek once before he starts to move his hand down your neck, over your shoulder, down your arm, tracing your outline until he settles both hands on your waist, drawing you closer to him.

Steve stares at you with an intensity you’ve never seen him direct at anyone before, let alone at you, your bodies mere inches away from one another’s, then he shakes his head, voice gruff, almost pained, when he speaks. “How can you—You don’t even know what you— _goddamnit_ , Y/N.”

He’s silent for so long that it starts to make you nervous. “Steve?” You ask tentatively, swallowing hard, unable to look away from his intense gaze. “What is it?”

He’s silent for another long moment, eyes roaming over your face. His hands tighten fractionally on your waist. “I want to kiss you.”

Your mouth goes dry as heat floods your body. “Oh.” You pause, “then why don’t you?”

“Because if I kissed you now, I don’t think I’d be able to stop.”

You make the split-second decision, ignoring the fact that you are still bleeding, that both of you are dirty and sweaty from the mission, that you’re on a rooftop in the middle of another country with dead bodies around you, instead taking solace in the cover of the night sky, in the way Steve’s hands feel on you, in the way he looks at you—taking the choice from him as you close the distance, standing on your tip-toes to bring your lips closer to his. “Promise?” You ask when you’re just a breath away, eyes wide, staring into his.

His fingers dig in to your skin and it sends shivers down your spine. “Y/N,” he whispers your name like a warning or a prayer, like you’re more than he could possibly resist, like he doesn’t even want to try, with you standing in front of him, offering for him to take. He tips his head down to finally,  _finally_  press his lips to yours.

For all the heat building inside of you—between you two—the kiss is gentle, exploratory, a soft press of a thing that leaves you trembling, Steve’s hands at your waist the only solid thing keeping you standing. You move your arms up to his shoulders, to hold on, until all you feel is Steve against you, beneath you, the kiss unfurling into something deeper, more desperate, that makes you clutch at him tighter, makes him hold you closer, his firm chest against yours, his hands spanning over your back.

You pull away only when the world seems to tilt around you, dragging in greedy breaths as you gaze at each other. There’s a blush on his cheeks that you’re sure is a mirror to your own face, a satisfaction in the curl of his lips, in the gleam of his eye. You bite your lip, suddenly shy, a little anxious, as you look away from the intensity of his features.

“Hey, hey,” Steve whispers, a hand moving to press gently under your chin, urging you to look back up at him. You do, unable to do anything else, not when the softness of his voice settles something rioting inside of you. He smooths your hair back, tucking it behind your ear. “Was that—was that okay?”

He doesn’t look nervous, because you know by now Steve Rogers never actually  _looks_ nervous, but his fingers playing with a piece of your hair gives him away. You smile, a gentle tilt of your lips just for him. “It was perfect,” you tell him, letting the honesty come through in your voice. You reach out, gripping the collar of his uniform, “but I seem to remember you promising not to stop.”

He grins, leaning down to kiss you once more.

This time, neither of you stop until the chopper arrives.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [ tumblr](https://freshwoods.tumblr.com/).


End file.
